Falling Star
by red rose knight
Summary: AU Lightside Xanatos. This was the result of a dare challenge with obiew.
1. Chapter 1

**Timeframe:** Before the Saga

**Characters:** Xanatos, Qui-Gon, Yoda and Mace

**Summary:** All I'll say is look at the dare.

**Notes:** This was a Grape Jello challenge dare from obi-ew. She is a bad, bad person. There is just no way I could justify such a raving AU with just one post, so it's going to be a short story. Bad oe!

**Dare:**_Lightside Xan! Wahoo!_

_He can't have an evil or nasty bone in his body or even be tempted to turn. Must be a Jedi. Must be between the ages of 10 and 30. Length of the vig is your choice but it can not be a drabble. And he can not die in the vig or already be dead ie a blue ghostie. Other than that it is up to you._

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**Falling Star**

_27th Year of Kaanto_

"Don't waste my time!" the large Trandoshan, Rassk, barked as he backhanded the crimson robed woman cowering before him. She screamed and hit the carpeted floor of the cabin with a thud that reverberated throughout the chamber.

"Shul'ma!" a girl cried out as she tried to leap up but a dozen hands grabbed her arms and robes, pulling her back down. "No!" she cried out.

"Shmi, no," warned one of the similarly dressed women who was huddled in the corner.

The teen struggled, nearly breaking free before once more being subdued.

Before Rassk, Shul'ma struggled to get up, deep red trailed down her chin. "We are followers of Dandha, on our way to Nashua to pray at the Temple of Bhazod Par."

Rassk, the leader of the Black Swarm, a menacing gang of pirates that roved the empty space between the Nas Hadal and Sessus systems stomped about, his clawed feet scraping against the tightly woven carpet. "Pilgrims don't travel in J-Class Seeda Cruisers," he rasped. "You are the wife of Gueise Mishon."

"I—"

With the butt of his blaster rifle, the scaled being silenced the woman's protests and stirred terrified cries from the ladies-in-waiting huddling in the corner. Rassk's yellow eyes darted to each of the three men who stood guard before looking to the women. When Shul'ma stirred, he said, "You are the wife of Gueise Mishon, member of the Hadal Royal Court."

The women murmured softly, save one. Shmi glared at the Trandoshan but remained still as a dozen hands still held her.

He twisted about, looking at the plainly decorated chamber. Though the ship was of quality, the furnishings were sparse at best. "Where is the special cargo?"

"We don't know what you are talking about," Shmi said over frightened whispers behind her. "We are on a pilgrimage—"

The words were cut off when she flinched away as Yawger, one of Rassk's thugs, took a swipe at her but missed.

"What if there really are no jewels?" one of the other men asked.

"They've hidden them," Rassk said sounding quite determined. He grabbed Shul'ma's arm and yanked her to her feet. "I know you are the special envoy to Sessus. Where are gifts to the Emperor?" he hissed.

The fear bled from Shul'ma's eyes. These men were not fools and had seen through their disguise. "I will not tell you," she said evenly.

Rassk pressed the muzzle of his blaster rifle to her abdomen. "Do I have to tear the ship apart to find it?" When the woman refused to answer, he shoved her to the floor and stormed across the chamber to the cowering women. Grabbing Shmi by her long brown braid, he roughly pulled her to her feet. She screamed, grabbing at the back of her head. He aimed the rifle muzzle for the girl's throat. Glaring at Shul'ma, he demanded, "Tell me where the cargo is or I'll kill every one of them while you watch."

The door to the cabin slid open and everyone turned to look. At first, there was only the empty corridor. Rassk nodded to Yawger to check it. As the big man approached, he stopped as a wilted figure in the familiar red robes fell against the metal frame.

Silky black hair spilled loosely over pale features. "My lady," came a breathless whisper.

"You missed a girl, Yawger," Rassk hissed as he motioned to the man. "Stupid mistakes will get you thrown out an airlock."

With a snarl, Yawger stormed to the door and grabbed a thin arm, pulling the form close with a soft squeak. The burley man offered a smile filled with rotted teeth.

"Let's see that pretty face of yours," he said, grabbing a hand full of loose strands.

"I dislike having my hair pulled," came a sharp response as bright azure tore through Yawger. The lightsaber hummed as it was drawn in a hard downward slash, freeing it from the large man's torso. Through a veil of hair, the youth watched the man tumble backwards.

With guidance through the Force, he flew forward slicing into Rassk's back before he could turn toward him. Ducking through a volley of blaster fire, he raced at the other two men, cutting them down with little hesitation.

For fifteen-year-old Xanatos ne'Hakujin, this is what he lived for. The rush of adrenaline through his veins and the surge of Force energy flowing through him made him long for more missions like this rather than the boring diplomatic ones he and his master were always sent off on.

Deactivating his weapon, he became acutely aware of the pensive breaths and soft whispers to his back but felt no danger from the women. They were, after all, his charges. He and his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had been assigned to protect the envoy during their quiet journey to Sessus.

Still clutching the weapon in one hand, he pulled the ill-fitting crimson robe off and allowed the cloth to spill to the floor revealing soft creams and tans of tunic and leggings.

From the edge of his peripheral vision, he spied Shmi scrambling to Shul'ma's side but gave her no overt attention as he clipped his weapon hilt to his utility belt. Then reaching into a wide outer tunic sleeve, he drew out a strip of leather. Drawing his hair back, except for a thin braid that dipped down behind his right ear and rested against his shoulder, he bound the hair into a topknot and allowed its length to cascade down his back.

Content that he looked how he wanted, he turned, studying the women with keen sapphire eyes.

"Is that one of the Jedi?" came a soft whisper from the huddled group.

"I don't know."

Shmi was about to speak up when another figure appeared in the open doorway. A tall man with long brown hair draped in Jedi robes entered but paused to study the dead men before looking to the boy. "You're skill never ceases to amaze me, Padawan, but where you excel with a lightsaber, you fall short in compassion."

"These men earned their fate," Xanatos quickly responded.

Qui-Gon looked at him for a moment, then started to say something but hesitated. "Perhaps, but standing there like a sentinel will not ease the minds of those traumatized by the attack." He approached and knelt before Shul'ma and Shmi. "I fear we were unprepared for this attack, my lady."

Shul'ma, whose face had turned dark from the hit she had taken earlier, rocked back on her knees. "The cargo?"

"Secure."

"And our ship?"

"We have taken it back." He paused. "But not without casualty."

"How many?"

"Five crew members were executed before we could reach them."

Soft whimpers quickly swelled to agonized wails as the woman clung close to the stoic figure of Shul'ma. He reached out, offering the woman a comforting touch to the shoulder.

"I am sorry. I could not get there fast enough."

"Our mission has not ended in failure," Shul'ma said. "Without your help, peace between the Hadal and the Sessus would be in great jeopardy about now. Our journey must continue."

Qui-Gon nodded gently, then turned to look back at Xanatos. "Padawan."

"Yes, Master?"

"They are short handed and will need help detaching the pirate's ship. We must not linger here long."

"I'll take care of it," Xanatos replied and started for the opening to the rest of the ship.

He felt the surge in the Force just as he passed the spot where Rassk had fallen. In a single, fluid motion, he spun about and activated his lightsaber cleaving the being in half but he was not quick enough. Rassk got off several shots before the weapon tumbled from a lifeless hand. Xanatos just stood there frozen for what felt a thousand years, watching as the man's body fell backward in slow motion and the blaster clattered loudly to the floor.

A mistake.

He had been careless.

A soft, choking sound drew his attention. Turning slowly, he saw Qui-Gon sink to his knees. "Master!" a concerned cry tore from him as he raced to the older man but discovered that it was not Qui-Gon who was injured.

"It's alright," the master said gently as he cradled the much smaller from of Shmi close. She trembled as terror filled eyes darted about before focusing on the master's hand, which brushed loosened strands of hair from her face.

Spying the smoldering blaster wound in the girl's chest, Xanatos turned and glared at Rassk but the Trandoshan was dead. He could do nothing else to make him pay.

Shmi made a few attempts at words. "Forgive me, my Lady," she whispered, then her lips stilled and her eyes became glassy with death.

She was no older than he was, Xanatos thought.

Qui-Gon continued to hold the girl as he looked to Shul'ma who was sobbing and gripping Shmi's pale hand.

"Stupid child," woman said through tears.

"She was being trained to be a lady-in-waiting," one of the other women quietly whispered.

"Her name?" the master asked.

"Shmi," Shul'ma replied. "Her name was Shmi."

Ever so gently, he shifted the girl's still form into the arms of the women. For a time, he just sat there and watched as they cried over the girl. Rocking back, he slowly rose and turned to his quiet padawan.

Xanatos began, "I thought I had—"

"It was not your fault," the master said as he approached and laid a large hand on the youth's shoulder.

"But I—"

The words were cut off as the tall man wavered, pulling on Xanatos' shoulder. He struggled to steady Qui-Gon. "Master?"

Qui-Gon blinked a few times and for a moment, Xanatos thought he saw terror in the midnight blue depths. "I feel as if," the words faded as he turned to look at the dead girl. "Something has changed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Ann Jinn** - Thanks! **norah-hunt** - Glad to see you are enjoying it. **lanoger** - Yup, one little change, throws everything else out of whack. **Just Jill** - Hiya! This is the first of a new mini series so there's plenty of new writing.

Thanks for the replies, everyone!

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**40th Year of Kaanto**

There were few things in the universe that still managed to surprise Master Yoda. When those moments occurred, the little Jedi attributed it to the Force reminding him that he is not so wise that he could see everything coming.

The truth was, so little of the last decade had been like anything he had imagined. He had not thought he would take on another padawan, but he did. Perhaps it had been selfish, but at the time, he was a master who had lost a former student and there was a padawan, maimed physically and mentally, in desperate need of a master to keep him on the right path.

Yes, all good intentions aside, he had been selfish, but there was little point in dwelling on the past. After all, there had been benefits, as painful to come by as they were.

Still, he thought, surprise was a good thing though at the moment he worried what it would do to a couple of egos.

It had been a slow going journey up the steps to the gallery and looked forward to taking a rest in one of the tall seats. He had expected it to be sparsely filled in the middle of the afternoon, as not many Jedi were free to watch sparring sessions, but the murmur of voices and the swell in the Force told him it would not be so on this day.

"Ah, Master Yoda," Grayses Naminae said from her place in the very full gallery. "It seems there is but one seat left." She smiled and patted the seat next to her with a furry grey hand.

"Thank you," Yoda said with a nod and hobbled to the seat on the end of the row. Then with surprising spryness, he hopped up on the seat. From his new perch, he could look over the thick stone rail down onto the expansive exhibition floor.

"News spreads quickly," the Cathar master said as she stared down at the pools of white light that spilled over the floor below.

Nodding, Yoda said, "Indeed." He turned to look back at the audience of female masters and padawans and just shook his head. Quick indeed.

A hush fell in the gallery as movement appeared along the deeply shadowed edges of the floor below. The air, filtered and cooled, seemed to stir as if a harbinger of a great storm.

With a bold stride, Mace Windu entered the floor. The master, as always looked calm as he surveyed the area. His long, darkly patterned cloak shifted just above the mottled stone as he took up position in the center of the floor. A small smile cracked his still features as he looked up at the filled gallery.

"He is still young," Grayses said, as if aware of Yoda's thoughts.

"An arrogance," Yoda replied. "Strong it is becoming in the Order as a whole." He paused, hearing his own words. Yes, they were true, but painfully, he knew how closely they reflected one of his former student's beliefs.

Mace shifted the edge of his cloak back, revealing the lightsaber hilt at his hip as he stood there waiting awaiting his opponent.

And he stood there.

The gallery stirred.

Yoda just sat there silently shaking his head.

Soft laughter next to him drew a curious look. Grayses smiled and said, "It seems punctuality is not one of Xanatos' stronger points."

"Always late he is." As his padawan's aggressive, compassionless behavior as a youth had been subdued with proper retraining and meditation and an unfortunate dose of humility, other curious personality quirks surfaced in their place. Some were more annoying than others.

Mace's expression never changed, but he reached up and unclipped his lightsaber. His footsteps echoed over the stone as he walked a wide circle along the edge of the lit floor. He spoke in a grave tone, "So here we are."

"Yes," came a cool reply from the shadows.

Deep laughter. "Why don't you just forfeit now," Mace said. "It would save us both a lot of time."

Violet flashed to life as Mace twisted, cutting swiftly though the air with his weapon. Sparks flew as violet met blue. Mace bore down on his swift opponent, but Xanatos was gone as fast as he had appeared.

Voices moved through the crowd as padawan's strained to see where the dark haired Jedi went.

"All ready playing games?"

"I'm not playing," Xanatos said evenly from behind. He lashed out at his opponent's unprotected back but was blocked by the dark skinned Jedi by a sharp twist. Mace spun about on him, sending him retreating across he floor as blue and violet danced along the dimly lit edges of the room.

Suddenly surging forward, Xanatos stabbed at his opponent singeing one of Mace's billowing sleeves.

"Hey!" the taller man barked. He smiled. "Watch the threads."

Xanatos straightened and carefully looked the other man over. "Oh yes, we wouldn't want to ruin Master Sarta's fine work."

"Right." Mace deactivated his weapon and slipped the brown cloak off, pausing to examine the damaged sleeve and then suddenly lashed out, whipping the cloth across the space between them. The energies of the Force swirled wildly about, twisting the material in invisible hands and wrapping it around Xanatos' left arm. Without hesitation, Mace jerked the cloth back sending his opponent sprawling. "I have you now!" he said as he lunged forward.

Throwing himself forward, Xanatos used his left arm to block the attack. The gallery gasped as masters and padawans alike leapt to their feet. The protective ring around the emitter pressed again his arm, the violet blade so close that it burned through layers of cloth revealing metal underneath.

"These aren't practice sticks," Mace said but Xanatos never shifted, holding the weapon motionless.

Saying nothing, the long-haired Jedi kicked out sending Mace tumbling back across the floor. Free to move, he bound to his feet, quickly taking a defensive position, but paused. Free of attack, he pulled away the damaged cloth, revealing the sleek metal shape of an artificial arm.

"Are you mad?" Mace demanded sounding a little winded as he slowly found his own footing.

"No. I am just keenly aware of how far I can go," Xanatos replied as he checked the function of his fingers, still sheathed in rich brown leather. Brushed metal reflected the overhead lighting.

Yoda allowed a small smile. It seemed the newer prosthetic could hold up to the abuse. A lesser one had failed three years ago during an attack, causing the fingers to lock up. He feared the trauma would have set the young man back but he had managed to spring back rather quickly, searching for a better quality arm.

Appearing satisfied, Xanatos grinned and sprang into action with little warning, racing toward the bald master.

With lightning quick reflexes, Mace spun about, blade dancing through the air and rebounding off his opponent's. Determination lit his dark eyes as he surged forward. Blades locked together with a shower of sparks as the two men struggled for dominance.

"You won't win this time," Mace growled.

A wicked smile lit Xanatos' features. "You're just jealous of my hair."

"Your…what?"

Capitalizing on the moment, Xanatos set Mace on the defensive. With a fierceness not yet seen, he drove Mace across the floor with an unrelenting string of blows.

Mace struggled to counter every strike.

Each blow came more powerful than the last and Xanatos slammed his weapon down on his opponent, smashing through his defenses.

Mace feinted left, the quicker opponent took the bait and misstepped. With a motion of his hand, the Force flowing through him, he sent Xanatos flying backward.

With feline grace, Xanatos somersaulted over the floor, regaining control and landing cat footed a dozen paces away. His weapon held out parallel to the floor. "So what? You can't beat me the conventional way, so you have to resort to trickery?"

"You make the Force sound like a cheap trick?" Mace responded as he took up position again. "We use whatever is available to us, am I correct?"

Smiling, Xanatos chided, "Well, if you need it to win."

"Oh, I don't need it." Mace flew forward. Xanatos had no way of defending against the mad flurry of attack. The violet blade tore through Xanatos' right sleeve as he jumped out of the way.

"Careful," Xanatos hissed as he checked the large hole left in the cloth. "Are you trying to get me out of my clothes?"

"Excuse me? In your dreams." Mace laughed and looked up into the gallery and noted the majority female audience. "Or rather the gallery's dreams." Laughter echoed through the chamber.

Xanatos flashed a devilishly grin but it quickly turned stern as he rebuffed the other man's quick attack.

"Your arrogance," Mace growled as he drove his violet blade through Xanatos' defenses. Almost immediately a hiss was heard as the tips of Xanatos' hair were burned away from the heat of the blade.

"Going after my hair now?"

"Are we a bit sensitive?" Mace teased. "After that crack about hair—"

"Oh, come on, you've been jealous for years," Xanatos said as he checked the burned ends. "Are you trying to make me as bald as you?"

"It would save a lot time," Mace said with a laugh. "Unlike you, I don't have time to waste making sure my hair is pretty."

Xanatos leaned forward allowing his black hair in a topknot tied with a long ribbon to cascade over his shoulder. "You know, I hear there is this amazing hair growth formula—"

"Don't even start that with me, pretty boy."

Yoda rubbed his wrinkled forehead. The two of them were like children some times. He cleared his throat, earning a look from the two Jedi on the exhibition floor.

"Uh oh, now we're in trouble," Xanatos teased as he looked from the small green-skinned Jedi back to his opponent. "I still think you are jealous."

"Don't even—"

The words were cut off as Xanatos sprang forward. He dived through Mace's defenses, his left arm thrust forward like a shield, slamming into Mace's hand, knocking the free. He tried to bring his blade up, but Mace was quick to respond, the heel of his hand shooting forward. Twisting, he barely missed it connecting with his cheek.

"Desperate?" Xanatos asked.

Mace grinned and then grabbed a handful of black hair. Bright blue eyes widened in shock. "Not at all, pretty boy!"

"I don't like my hair pulled."

"A problem I don't have."

Xanatos grinned. "Want to dance?" Shifting slightly, he entwined a leg around Mace's and sent the taller man tumbling.

Mace, however, did not release his grip on Xanatos' hair, sending both of them to the floor.

Crying out, Xanatos crashed to the stone and grabbed at his hair, pulling it free of Mace's hold and the red ribbon that kept it tamed. He sprang forward, quickly regaining his footing just as Mace called his weapon to his hand as he leapt up.

Blades flared centimeters from their respective throats.

"Draw," Yoda announced.

Both Jedi broke their even stare and looked toward the little master who still comfortably sitting in the tall chair, and finally to the gallery who nodded in silent approval.

Carefully retreating, the two men deactivated their weapons. Xanatos took the moment to retie his hair pulled loose during the match.

Spying the mischievous glimmer in Mace's eyes, Yoda decided to intervene. "Like padawans you two act."

Both men looked at each other and grinned.

"A compliment it is not," Yoda said, trying to hide the fact that he enjoyed watching the two play when they should have put on a serious show for the audience.

"It was only a sparring match, Master," Xanatos said. "It is rare that a Jedi would meet another lightsaber wielder in true battle."

"Rare, but happens, it does," Yoda said pointing a clawed finger at the young man. "Friends become foes and teachers become enemies. Know this you do, my Padawan, better than most."


End file.
